Chris pulled a large athletic bag from the back seat of her car and locked it. “I’m twenty-nine, and if you tell me I look like Little Orphan Annie I might break your other arm.”

“There is a resemblance.”

“Don’t push it.” She stood facing his truck. It was a single cab Toyota Tacoma, dark gray with large wheels-and it seemed to be in perfect condition. Sure, it’s easy for him, she thought grimly. He probably knows if it has a glamus. A huge black dog sat behind the wheel. Chris looked at the man beside her. “There’s a dog in there.”

“Yeah.”

“That’s the second-biggest dog I’ve ever seen.”

“It’s a Rottweiler.”

“It must weigh two hundred pounds. We won’t all fit.”

“Of course we will. This truck seats three.”

“This truck would have to have rubber doors to seat three.”

He swung himself into the truck and settled beside the panting Rottweiler. “Come on,” he coaxed. “He’s a good dog. See? He’s smiling. He likes you.”

Chris set her bag on the floor between his feet and trudged around to the driver’s side. “Why me?” she groaned. “Why do these things always happen to me?” She opened the driver’s side door and slid in next to the mountain of dog, trying politely to nudge him over. He didn’t move. He draped his huge head on her shoulder and drooled down the front of her red vest. Chris rolled her eyes in disgust. “Oh for goodness’ sake. Hey, you!” she called between the dog’s ears. “What’s your name?”

There was a brief hesitation. “Ken Callahan.”

“Ken Callahan, I can’t drive with your dog drooling on me.”

He sighed. “Okay.”

The passenger door opened and slammed shut. Chris watched Ken Callahan jog around the truck. Not her type, she told herself, but she had to admire his style. Even with a broken arm, he moved with the fluid ease of an athlete. He opened the door and jerked his thumb at Chris in an obvious order. “Out!” Maneuvering his large frame behind the wheel, he used his good arm to shove the dog clear to the window. He settled himself next to the Rottweiler and straddled the gearshift. “Is this better?”